


When the Working Day is Done

by holtzbabe



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: A cat - Freeform, F/F, Heavy Drinking, Spotify playlists, Storms, a small fire, drunk board games, light burns (from Monopoly not the fire), monopoly, power loss (both electrically-speaking and also Monopoly-speaking), this fic has it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:05:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe
Summary: It started innocently.It ended with a fire, a cat, and half-naked hangovers.What else would you expect from a game of Monopoly?





	When the Working Day is Done

**Author's Note:**

> Don't even ask what crevice of my creative brain this was spawned from.

Abby is sitting on Kevin’s desk and contemplating why she thought working with her friends was a good idea, when the firehouse door bangs open and Patty enters.

She stops just inside the door as she takes in the scene in front of her.

“What the _hell?_ ” she says loudly.

Under the work bench by the containment unit, Holtz scrambles awake and upright and smacks her head on the underside of the table, swearing as she does so. Erin, passed out facedown in the centre of the room draped over a displaced cushion from the couch, also wakes up and sits up, rubbing her head and squinting into the light. She’s wearing only her bra and a pair of jeans. She realizes this and self-consciously wraps her arms around her torso.

“Morning, Patty,” Abby says. She swings her legs and puts down the magazine she was reading.

Holtz rolls out from under the work bench and staggers to her feet. She rubs her eyes and groans. She shuffles closer to the middle of the room and helps Erin up.

“I expect,” Holtz says, voice croaky as she realizes how dry her throat is, “that you two have some questions. I do as well. First question: am I still drunk? I still feel drunk.”

“Uh, no,” Patty says, “that doesn’t even crack the top _ten_ of questions I have right now. First up: what the _hell_ happened here? Did y’all drink _all_ our liquor? Where is your damn shirt, Erin? Why are you barefoot? Holtzy, why the fuck are you wearing a headlamp? Why are there candles everywhere? Why are there paperclips all over the floor? Is that a Monopoly board? Did it catch on _fire?_ And most importantly— _is that a fucking cat?_ ” She points across the room.

All four of them look over to where there is, indeed, a small kitten perched on top of Holtz’s work bench looking mighty content.

Holtz strokes an imaginary beard. “Ah. You’re right—those are some important questions. I’m gonna be real honest and say that the details of last night are super foggy and I’m not _quite_ sure I can answer your questions at this moment in time. Erin?”

Erin shakes her head in bewilderment. “I have no clue.”

Patty crosses her arms. “I suggest you start remembering, because I need answers.”

“Yeah, it seems like _something_ epic went down last night,” Abby says, “and if you’re going to trash our workplace and not invite us, you _better_ tell us the story.”

Erin runs her hand through her hair and frowns, trying to remember. “Maybe…if we start at the beginning it’ll come to us as we go?”

Holtz shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

Erin winces. “Oh. Don’t say that word. I’m going to puke.”

“What, shot?” Holtz looks around at the empty liquor bottles and shot glasses and hums. “Yeah, fair enough.”

Patty pulls out Kevin’s desk chair and takes a seat. “Stop stalling. You better start tellin’ this story fast.”

Holtz shrugs. “Alright, we’ll do our best.” She glances at Erin. “Well, it started pretty innocently…”

 

_15 Hours Earlier_

 

There’s a storm outside, and of course Erin and Holtz are the only ones stupid enough to have come to the firehouse to work.

They’re both very pointedly Not Acknowledging the screeching wind and snow pelting on the windows. They’re keeping their heads down, working, and barely talking to each other.

Holtz has her phone hooked up to a wireless Bluetooth speaker and is blasting an extremely catchy playlist that has Erin bobbing her head at her desk and mouthing along the lyrics. _Don’t Stop Believin'_ is currently playing. She erases a number from her page and brushes away the little eraser bits with the back of her hand.

The lights flicker. Holtz connects two wires together and gives herself a little zap. She’s full-on singing along to the song despite the fact that she’s holding a pen in her teeth.

The playlist transitions to _Bohemian Rhapsody_ and Holtz starts singing along even louder. Erin’s mouthing turns into quiet singing. Holtz cranks the volume up.

The lights flicker again.

“ _Mamaaaa_ ,” Holtz cries, “just killed a _mannnn_.”

Erin smiles at her desk. She sets her pencil down and swivels in her chair to watch Holtz and sing along.

Holtz grins and spits out her pen, picking up the wand of a deconstructed old-model proton pack that she’s been repurposing for parts. She strums it like a guitar along to the building music.

Erin’s singing grows louder with every line until they’re matched in volume.

“ _THUNDERBOLTS AND LIGHTNING, VERY VERY FRIGHTNING ME_ ,” they sing-shout together.

They continue to shout at each other as the music builds and builds. The wind seems to get louder in response.

And then the power goes out, leaving them in the pitch black with the song still playing full volume. They both trail off from singing.

“Shit,” Holtz shouts over the music. She pulls her phone from her pocket, thumbs the volume down, and turns her flashlight on.

“That’s really unfortunate,” Erin says.

“It’s fine. I’ve got about a thousand candles upstairs for science purposes,” Holtz says. “Give me a minute to pop up there.”

“Wait, are we safe?” Erin says. “Will the containment unit power down?”

“Pssh, how crazy do you think I am? The unit runs on an alternate power generator that may or may not be nuclear in nature. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Phew. I probably shouldn’t be relieved by that knowledge, but it’s good to know that no ghosts are escaping.”

“Now that that’s settled…” Holtz grins sinisterly in the light of her flashlight. “BRB.”

She dances away, leaving Erin in the dark. _Living on a Prayer_ is playing from the speaker now.

Erin takes out her own phone and is unhappy to note that it only has 21% battery life left. She turns it on low-power mode and pockets it again.

Upstairs, Holtz shoves every candle she can find into a duffle bag along with two of her favourite lighters. She also manages to rustle up a couple battery-powered flashlights and her headlamp, which she dons in favour of her phone’s flashlight.

By the time she’s finished, _Sweet Caroline_ is playing and she manages to slide down the firepole at the exact moment she’s singing her first “Sweet Caroliiiine.” She lands nimbly on her feet just in time to do her _buh, buh, buh’_ s and Erin laughs.

Together, they light as many candles as they can and distribute them around the first floor until most of the room is illuminated.

“Much better,” Holtz decides.

“Back to work, I guess?” Erin says. She sits back down at her desk and carefully moves a candle closer.

Holtz sits on the edge of her desk, nearly knocking over two different candles. “What’s the fun in that?”

She runs her fingers through Erin’s ponytail. It doesn’t faze Erin; Holtz frequently pets people.

“Well, we _are_ at work,” Erin points out.

“We’re trapped in a storm and it’s 7pm,” Holtz counters. “Also, _Cotton Eye Joe_ is coming up next, and if you don’t dance with me, I’m going to be crushed.”

“How can I argue with that?” Erin says with an amused half-smile.

Holtz’s idea of dancing to _Cotton Eye Joe_ is not, despite Erin’s expectations, line dancing. It involves a lot of hip thrusts and lassoing motions. Erin can barely watch and can’t stop laughing.

When that’s over, the next song up is _I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)_ which dissolves into Holtz marching on the spot and shimmying her shoulders while relaying the lyrics in a robotic voice with a complete deadpan. The juxtaposition between the voice and the fluidity of her wiggling upper body has Erin in hysterics.

Anyway, here’s _Wonderwall_.

“Well, that’s a dance party buzzkill,” Holtz says. “Now what?”

Erin shrugs exaggeratedly. “You know, we could work.”

“Orrrrrr…” Holtz skips over to Kevin’s desk. “I think my good man keeps a game supply in here.” She pulls out the top drawer to expose a few thousand paperclips just chilling, shuts it again, and opens the bottom drawer. “Ha! Success.”

“What?”

“Looks like we got Battleship, a deck of cards, Scrabble—wouldn’t have pinned Kev for strategy or intellectual games, not gonna lie—Guess Who, Mousetrap—these are more like it—and…oh, mama. That’s what I’m talking about.” She triumphantly pulls a box from the drawer.

Erin raises her eyebrows and holds up her hands in front of her like she’s warding off a vampire. “Whoa, no way. Nope.”

Holtz shakes the box. “What’ve you got against Monopoly?”

“ _I_ don’t have anything against Monopoly. I love Monopoly. But Abby banned me from ever playing again back when we were in college.”

Now Holtz raises her eyebrows with a slow grin. “Oh, man. Now we gotta play.”

“What? No!”

“Abby’s not here,” Holtz singsongs. “And college was a looong time ago.”

“I’m not that old. Besides, it was a lifetime ban.”

“That settles it; we’re playing Storm Monopoly,” Holtz says. “Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”

“Is Storm Monopoly different from regular Monopoly?” Erin asks, amused.

“Let’s find out.” Holtz carries the box over and drops it on the floor.

“I have a desk we could use…”

“Monopoly is better on the floor.” Holtz next removes two cushions from the waiting area couch and places them on either side of the box. “You want candle-moving duty or board-setting-up duty?”

“Candles,” Erin says immediately. She doesn’t trust Holtz with fire.

Holtz sets up the board while singing passionately along to _A Thousand Miles_. “You know,” she says, “a crucial part of Storm Monopoly is the ingestion of Storm Alcohol.”

“What? That’s…not true, and it’s a Wednesday, and we don’t have any.”

“I bet you Park Place that I can scrounge up _plenty_ of liquor from our esteemed colleagues’ workplace stashes.”

“Why do people have workplace booze stashes here?” Erin says. “Fine, go find some. You’re not getting Park Place, though. Baltic Avenue.”

“Baltic Avenue _and_ Mediterranean Avenue. Gimme dem browns.”

“I’m not letting you take possession of a full colour before we’ve even started playing.”

“What if I can bring you liquor from everyone? Abby, Patty, Kevin, _and_ myself.”

“You’re on.”

Holtz spins on her heel and scampers off. “Hey, does your lifetime Monopoly ban have anything to do with your competitive nature?” she calls over her shoulder.

“No,” Erin mutters.

It takes Holtz half of _Mr. Brightside_ and most of _Never Gonna Give You Up_ to return with her arms full. First she sets two shot glasses and a stack of red solo cups down in front of Erin. Then she plunks down, one-by-one:

  * A mostly-empty pint of Jack Daniels (Abby)
  * A fifth of raspberry vodka (Patty)
  * A four-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade (Kevin)
  * A pint of tequila with only about three ounces left in the bottle (Holtz)



And, as a special bonus:

  * A bottle of pino grigio that she found in Erin’s desk



“Lookie what I found,” she says with glee. “I think I should get a bonus property for that one.”

Erin blushes. “That wasn’t to drink at _work_.”

“Then why was it in your desk?”

Erin turns redder. She points at Kevin’s contribution. “That stuff doesn’t count.”

Holtz snorts. “How much do we wanna bet that he bought them in connection to Mike Hat?”

“I’m with you on that one,” Erin says. She picks up the Jack and gives the bottle a swirl. “Why the hell does everyone have so much liquor here?”

Holtz shrugs. “We have parties here sometimes.”

Erin’s mouth falls open. “Without me?”

“Uhhhhhhh…no?”

“Why? Because people think I can’t be fun? I can be fun!”

Erin unscrews the top of the whiskey and considers it for a fleeting second, then throws back a full gulp right from the bottle, choking only slightly.

As if on cue, the next song to play is _Eye of the Tiger_.

Holtz cracks her knuckles with glee. “Oh, God yes. I’ve always wanted to have an intense battle to this song. It is _on_ , Gilbert. Gimme that.”

Erin regrets her choices, clearly. She hands the bottle over. Holtz forgoes a shot glass as well.

She takes all the metal game pieces and spreads her palms, offering Erin first pick.

“Wheelbarrow,” Erin says, snatching the piece and setting it on Go.

“Interesting choice. I would’ve pegged you for a thimble gal. Or the iron.”

“What about me strikes you as domestic, Holtz?”

Holtz cackles. “Well, I’m taking the sick-ass ship.”

“Let me look at that.”

“Why?”

“Just checking for lifeboats, because this ship is going _down_.”

“Touché.” Holtz tosses the rest of the pieces into the lid of the box. “Banker? You’re quicker at math, but…”

“Worried I’ll cheat?”

“Not _worried_ per se…”

“Give me the money, Holtz.”

Holtz smirks and shoves it over. Erin deals the starting bills without even consulting the manual.

“When was the last time you played this game, again?”

Erin gives a smirk of her own.

?

They’re neck-in-neck, both in owned properties and alcohol intake.

Holtz has all the oranges, the browns, and some other scattered properties.

Erin has all the light blues, various others around the board, and two of the three pinks.

Holtz has the other pink. Erin is trying to get it from her.

“You only paid $140,” Erin says in exasperation. “$157 is a 12.1% profit for you. Come _on_.”

“You think a measly 12.1% is enough incentive? _You_ come on. It’s like you don’t even want it. What are you gonna give Holtzy to make it worth my while?”

“13%.”

“Fuck off.”

“14% and…a Get Out of Jail Free card.”

“Puh-lease. I can flirt my way out of jail with my eyes closed.”

“Flirt with _who?_ ”

“Your turn’s up, Gilbert. Gimme the dice.”

“15% and Reading Railroad,” Erin says desperately.

“Now we’re talking,” Holtz says, making a grabby-hands motion.

Erin counts out $161 and hands it to Holtz with the deed for Reading Railroad.

Holtz whistles as she exchanges them for St. Charles Place. “You know, you were awfully desperate for a property that, let’s face it, is shitty.”

“Not with a hotel on it, it’s not,” Erin says smugly.

“Still only $750, babe,” Holtz says. “Peanuts.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Erin says confidently. “You think I got a lifetime ban for being a terrible player?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I think.”

They have to take a dance break to do the Time Warp when that comes on.

“Do you think they’re going to be mad that we’re drinking all their alcohol?” Erin asks with a hiccup as they’re doing their pelvic thrusts. It really does drive her insane.

“We can buy them more,” Holtz says. “This is very important scientific research.”

“What’s the hypothesis we’re testing?”

Holtz counts on her fingers. “Hypothesis 1: Dr. Erin Gilbert sucks at Monopoly and was given a lifetime ban by Dr. Abigail L. Yates because she’s highly competitive and a sore loser.”

“Screw you.”

“Hypothesis 2: If Dr. Erin Gilbert gets drunk enough, anything could happen.”

“You’ve seen me drunk before, Holtz.”

“I most certainly have not. I’ve seen you moderately tipsy at best.”

Erin sticks out her tongue.

?

They kick it up a notch, like _way_ up.

They’ve finished all of Abby’s whiskey and polished off half of Erin’s bottle of wine.

Holtz is scream-singing the lyrics to _All Star_ as she manages to land on Boardwalk after landing on Park Place during her last trip around the board.

“What?” Erin cries over the music. “No!”

“Suck ittttt,” Holtz shouts.

On her next turn, she buys a hotel for each of them.

“How do you have this much disposable cash?” Erin shoves the bills in the money tray and grabs Holtz’s bottle of tequila. “I think it’s time for this.”

Holtz grins and snatches the shot glasses. There’s just enough for a shot each.

“Hold on, I have limes in the minifridge,” Holtz says. “Don’t you dare move anything while I’m gone. I have eyes _everywhere_ in this firehouse.”

Erin surveys the board while Holtz is gone. Holtz has way more properties at this point, but Erin is still in good shape. She’s desperate to get the last green property, North Carolina Avenue, but Holtz has it and is refusing to give it up for any price.

Holtz comes back and shakes a bag of Tostitos Hint of Lime tortilla chips. “My limes are, uhhh, no longer recognizable as limes due to some nasty little microorganisms staking their claim. I respect that. I got these, though.”

“ _So_ not the same thing.” Erin rolls the dice for her turn. Before even moving her piece, her eyes flick ahead and count the spots.

Holtz sees it at the same time as her and starts to laugh.

“ _FUCK_ ,” Erin shouts.

Holtz laughs even harder. _Bad Day_ is playing. She sings along and hands Erin’s shot glass to her.

Erin moves her piece to Boardwalk, its shiny new hotel gleaming in the candlelight. She winces and throws back her shot, coughing a little after it’s gone down, and slams the empty shot glass on the floor.

“Atta girl,” Holtz cheers. She throws back her own shot and makes a loud honking noise. Then she cracks her knuckles and makes a big show of picking up the deed for Boardwalk.

Erin covers her eyes. “Just tell me. Just say it.”

“That’ll be a clean two grand, madam!”

Erin swears again, even louder. “I don’t have that. _God_. I’m going to have to sell all my hotels.”

“Or, if you want to keep things interesting, I’m willing to put some house rules into play. Some firehouse rules, if you will.”

Erin eyes her. “I’m listening.”

“If we start, there’s no going back.”

“I’m not agreeing to it until I know what rules you’re proposing.”

“Nuh uh, it only works if you agree to it first. Otherwise, Holtzy’s waitin’ on that 2G, buttercup. Pay up.”

“Fine. Fine. Whatever. Let’s do it.”

Holtz raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Bring it on.”

“Alrightyyyy. You asked for it. I’m building a Sam’s Strip Club on each of my properties.”

“ _What?!”_

“Hey, you agreed to this!”

“What the fuck does a Sam’s Strip Club do? Do you pay to build those?”

“Nah, they’re government subsidized.” Holtz stands and goes to Kevin’s desk, returning with a handful of paperclips from the Paperclip Drawer. She carefully sets one on each of her properties. “Henceforth, whilst on one of my properties, you may obtain some sweet, sweet cash by doing some work for Old Man Sam. $250 off your debt for every article of clothing removed. $500 if you make it a show.”

“ _Holtzmann_.”

“Problem? You can also sell all your hotels, mortgage your properties, and eventually go bankrupt. Your choice.”

“I hate you. Why did I agree to this?”

“I thought you were up for the challenge?” Holtz’s eyes glint evilly, candlelight flickering off them.

Erin juts out her bottom lip. “Fine. You’re on.”

Erin, to her credit, does the best she can sexy-dancing to _Bring Me To Life_. She removes both shoes and socks.

“There,” she says, and sits back down. “My debt is cleared.”

Holtz whistles and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Boy is it ever.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Don’t hate the player: hate the game.”

“Just roll, Holtz.”

?

They’re very drunk.

Drunk to the point of surrendering and mixing Patty’s raspberry vodka with Kevin’s sorry excuse for alcoholic beverages in an effort to beef them up a little. Erin nearly pukes upon taking a sip of the mixture, partly because of how sweet it is, and partly because it’s awful.

They take a break to dance to _Margaritaville_ and then after that they put a pause on the game because now the room is spinning.

They sit on the edge of Kevin’s desk. Holtz’s legs don’t reach the floor. Erin has lost her hoodie to Sam’s Strip Club and is left in a t-shirt. She has both arms wrapped around herself to try and keep warm. She really wishes the heat was working.

Holtz is singing _Brown Eyed Girl_ drunkenly. She hops off the desk and ambles over to the front door.

“Where are you going?” Erin calls after her.

“T’check on the storrrrmmm,” Holtz calls back.

“Please don’t let the cold in,” Erin says, but it’s too late and Holtz has already pried the front door open.

The cold comes in, and so does a tiny flash of brown.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Holtz says, jumping back and slamming the door shut. “Was that a rat?”

“Holtz! I swear to God!”

“Where’d it go? Did you see?”

Erin points. “Behind the reception couch. Get it!”

Holtz drops to the floor and army crawls towards the couch. She reaches the side of it and pokes her head around the back, letting her headlamp illuminate the space.

Cowering down at the end is a wet, shivering furball.

“ _Erin!_ ” she hisses excitedly. “It’s a cat!”

“A cat?”

“Yes! A cat! Oh, look at the poor thing. It must be so cold!”

“Don’t touch it! It could have rabies!”

“What do you take me for, a coward? Don’t worry, I’m up-to-date on all my shots.” Holtz makes kissy noises with her mouth. “Here, kitty! Come here! Holtzy’s not gonna hurt you!”

“This is such a bad idea,” Erin groans.

?

Fifteen minutes and some food-related bribery later, Holtz has the kitten wrapped in Erin’s discarded hoodie to warm up and it’s purring happily. Erin is maintaining a safe distance away from it, her feet pulled up on Kevin’s desk.

“You didn’t tell me you were scared of cats, Erin,” Holtz says. “You have nothing to be afraid of! Look at its widdle faaace.”

“And you didn’t tell me you were obsessed with cats,” Erin says stiffly.

“I’m a lesbian. All lesbians love cats.” Holtz scratches behind the kitten’s ears and watches it close its eyes in response. “Please note the lack of a ‘pussy’ joke there. I, for one, think that shows real restraint and emotional maturity on my part.”

“ _Holtz_.” Erin leans closer, nearly falling off the desk in the process. “Wait, you’re a lesbian?”

Holtz laughs. “You’re joking. That’s a joke.”

“No, seriously, you’re a lesbian?”

“Erin, I’ve _literally_ brought my girlfriend here before.”

“What? When?”

“Like, a few months ago? Three months ago, tops? Amber? Remember her?”

“I thought that was your roommate!”

“Well, yeah, that too.”

“But…”

“Are you seriously galpal-ing me right now?”

“What does that even mean?”

“This is the funniest conversation to me right now,” Holtz says through laughter. “Can you believe this, Spot?”

“ _Spot?_ ”

“Yeah. It’s a firehouse. Firehouses always have Dalmatians named Spot, right?”

“That’s a cat.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not even spotted.”

“Your point?”

“Holtzmann.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know I’m a raging homo, Erin.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Drunk Erin swears a lot,” Holtz says. “I like it. I like Drunk Erin.”

“You never talk about your girlfriend,” Erin blurts out.

“Well, she’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Holtz says.

“She’s not?”

“Nopers.”

“Since when?”

“’Bout a month ago?”

“Who broke up with whom? Was it serious? Are you okay?”

“It was mutual, yes, and yes.” Holtz grins. “I can’t believe you still use ‘whom’ even when you’re drunk. Whom. Whoooom. That’s such a funny word.”

Spot meows. Holtz lifts the hoodie bundle in the air.

“You want to roam, lil buddy?”

She sets it on the floor and lets the kitten wiggle out before Erin can protest. Spot immediately pounces onto the Monopoly board and skids across it.

“Hey!” Erin leaps off the desk and runs over, stumbling a little. “Get it off of there!”

Spot knocks over the stack of Community Chest cards and sends a couple of hotels flying. Holtz just laughs hysterically.

Erin stops a foot away from the board and extends a hand. “Holtz! Please!”

“C’mere, my little...” Holtz lifts the kitten up and glances underneath it… “girl!”

“Get her out of here.”

“It’s storming outside!”

“Then take her upstairs. I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”

“Into the lab? Really?”

Erin shudders. “Okay. No. We don’t want the building to explode. She can’t walk around here, though. There are candles everywhere.”

“She won’t make any trouble. Will you, Spot?”

The kitten, on cue, squirms out of Holtz’s grasp and jumps onto her shoulders, where she sits and regards Erin expectantly. Holtz beams.

_Take On Me_ starts playing.

“Whaddya say, Gilbert, ready to get back into it? Or are you ready to call it quits and forfeit the win to me?”

Erin grits her teeth. “Never. Let’s do it.”

Holtz nudges the moved hotels back into place on the board and gathers up the Community Chest cards. As Erin settles apprehensively across the board, Holtz cracks a new Mike’s Hard and empties it into her cup, then adds a splash of Patty’s vodka. Spot crawls from one shoulder to the other.

“Whose turn was it?”

Erin snatches the dice. “Mine.” She rolls and swears very softly as she counts her spots and slams her wheelbarrow on Marvin Gardens. “I fuckin’ hate you,” she whispers.

“No you don’t. $1,200, m’dear.”

Erin, not needing to count her bills to know exactly how much she has, gathers it all up and throws it at Holtz.

Holtz sips her drink in amusement. “What’s your outstanding balance? Fancy a night at the Club?”

Erin gives her a glare that could light a match in a storm and stands.

“Hold on, lemme get you a better song.” Holtz skips ahead from _1985_ until she gets to _Seven Nation Army_ and sets her phone down. “I’d better see some struttin’ to this.”

Erin rolls her eyes but does a very half-hearted strut back and forth as she pulls her shirt up and over her head, spins it around a few times, and tosses it to the floor. Spot jumps off Holtz’s shoulder, toddles over, and curls up on the shirt.

Erin stares. “Really?”

Holtz watches the kitten with a smile. “She’s harmless.” She takes another sip from her drink and looks back at Erin, then chokes when she sees her _very_ lacy bra.

Erin sits down. “That get me $500 off?”

“Uhhhhhh…”

Erin looks up. She takes in Holtz’s stare and self-consciously crosses her arms over her chest. “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m just…really…gay,” Holtz finishes in a small and squeaky voice.

Erin blushes. “Oh.”

“I don’t wanna be like, creepy or anything…”

“It’s okay. I’m…flattered? I think?”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” Holtz quickly grabs the dice and rolls.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Holtz doesn’t look up. “Hm?”

“Don’t I still owe more money?”

Holtz clears her throat loudly. “I don’t know. I didn’t count.”

“I only gave you four hundred and ten.”

“It’s fine,” Holtz says quickly. “We can forget the rest.”

Erin considers that, then leans forward, very purposefully making sure her arms amplify her cleavage. “Really?” She hiccups. “Y’know, that’s terrible business practice. That’s how you go bankrupt.”

“I owned a bar once,” Holtz mumbles. “Went out of business in a year because I kept giving away free drinks to hot girls.”

Erin snickers. “Seriously? You know I’m going to use this to my advantage now, right?”

“Fuck,” Holtz says quietly. She squints at her rolled dice and scratches her neck, which is turning red. “Um. What’d I roll? S’that one a five or a six?”

“You’re so drunk.”

“So are you.”

“Least I can read the dice. That’s a five.”

_Since U Been Gone_ comes on as Holtz is moving her piece. She turns up the volume on her phone and bops her head.

“You like this song?” Erin says, surprised. She sips her drink and immediately regrets it. She reaches for the bag of chips instead and has one of those.

“Course. Everyone does. S’the best breakup song.”

“Y’know, I had a breakup, too,” Erin says. “Few months ago. I listened to this _so_ many times.”

“No shit? You, too? Man, aren’t we a couple of Secretive Sally’s.”

Erin snorts. “I guess we don’t talk much, huh? Maybe we would if I got invited to the parties you guys have here.”

Holtz winces. “Erin—”

“ _Since you’ve been gooonnnnnnneeeee_ ,” Erin shouts suddenly.

Holtz joins her singing and lets it drop. She waits until the song is over.

“So, what do I owe you?”

Erin blinks, then realizes what she means a second later. She grabs the deed for Kentucky Avenue and scans it with the tip of her finger. “Uhh, three houses…$700.”

Holtz clumsily counts out a hodgepodge of bills from her messy money pile and hands them over. Erin carefully lays them out by value. While she does that, Holtz lays down on her back and stares up at the cavernous ceiling. Is it moving?

“Breakups suck,” she says.

Erin glances over at her. “Thought you said it was mutual?”

“I just mean in general. But yeah, I did. Doesn’t mean it didn’t suck.”

Spot wakes up from her nap and comes over to stand on Holtz’s stomach. She absentmindedly pets the small creature.

“Sorry,” Erin mumbles.

“It’s fine. We loved each other, but we weren’t right together.” Holtz hums along to _My Girl_ , now fittingly playing from the speakers. “ _Astra inclinant, sed non obligant_.”

“I took three years of Latin in college,” Erin says. “I don’t know if that’s the expression you meant to use.”

“Nah, it is.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me about your breakup,” Holtz says. Spot crawls onto her face.

“You mean my ex?”

“Yuck. I don’t wanna hear about them. Just the breakup.”

“Uh…alright? It was…well, it was fine. I broke up with him.”

“Ah. Why?”

Erin thinks for a few moments. “ _In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas_.”

Holtz considers that, then snorts. “Indeed.” Her cup isn’t within reach, but she mimes raising it anyway. “Cheers to that.”

Erin rolls an eight for her next turn and counts ahead, then throws her hands up. “Are you _serious?”_

Holtz turns her head. “What’d you get?”

“Park Place,” Erin grumbles. “How many times is this, now?”

Holtz picks up Spot and places her on the floor, then rolls onto her side and grabs the card. “$1,500 this time.”

Erin grabs the $700 that she just carefully laid out and tosses them unceremoniously on top of Holtz’s pile with a loud sigh. “Guess it’s time to sell some real estate.”

“Whaaat?” Holtz whines. “Sam’s is still open for business.”

“I’m not gonna take off any more of my clothes,” Erin says.

“Boooo.”

“S’what a ghost says,” Erin mumbles. She flicks a house off Kentucky Avenue and into the centre of the board. “Boom. Sold.”

“ _No,_ ” Holtz says. “I lowered my rent. Now it’s only $700.”

“Holtz, are you _trying_ to let me win, or are you just drunk?”

Holtz is drunkenly singing along to _Tiny Dancer_. “Hmm?”

Erin shakes her head and moves her house back into place. “Don’t come crying when you go—whatsit called?”

“Sleep?”

“What? No. The thing. The thing in the game when you…when you’re…no more money.”

“Remind me to never play charades with you.”

“Charades is acting, not words.”

“What are you trying to say?” Holtz catches Spot just before she jumps on the board and lifts her onto her shoulder. “Haha. Cat.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“No _you_ are.”

Erin giggle-snorts and pushes the dice towards Holtz. “Your turn.”

Holtz winks sloppily and grabs the dice.

?

“Ooooh. Another $1,100 for Illinois Avenue. That’s rough.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” Holtz gathers up her remaining bills in her hands and offers them meekly to Erin. “This is…all I have.”

Erin takes the cash and sifts through it. A $1 bill falls through her fingers and she picks it up again. “This is…$11. Close.”

“Erin. _Erin_. Liiiisten.” Holtz crawls on all fours until she’s overtop the board and lowers her voice. “Sam’s is looking to expand.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Mmmmmm.” Erin taps her index finger on her chin. “That’s reeeally interesting, Holtz, but I’m not looking for any development right now, actually. My hotels are all doing _great_.”

Holtz sits back on her heels and licks her lips. “I don’t think you understood—”

“Oh, I understood.”

“—I’ll take everything off. I have no shame. Hell, I’m not above prostitu—”

“Have you considered selling your buildings?” Erin says sweetly, taking a sip from her cup.

Holtz pouts.

“You can still take your clothes off if you want,” Erin says with a wave of her hand.

“How much will it reduce my debt?”

“Oh, it won’t. You just really seem like you want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You sure?”

Holtz leans down to where Spot is sleeping and stage whispers, “What is happening?”

“What’s _happening_ is you’re an idiot and haven’t taken in any rent money in hours, and now you owe me $1,089.” Erin smiles smugly. “Erin Gilbert is _back_ , baby.”

Holtz makes a popping noise with her mouth. “This could go a few ways—”

“Right. You could sell your hotels and houses and mortgage some properties and pay me back, or you can lose the game.”

“C’monnnn. There’s gotta be _something_ I can do to pay you back.”

“Give me North Carolina Avenue and I’ll knock $150 off your debt.”

Holtz looks at the board. “But I paid $300!”

Erin shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“I fuckin’ hate you. Is this why you were banned?”

Erin smirks and swirls her drink in her cup. She hums along to _Hooked on a Feeling_.

Holtz lets out an extremely long sigh and starts plucking hotels off the board.

?

“Oh, woulda look at that,” Erin slurs. “Y’owe me $1,400.”

“Whaaat? No. Check again,” Holtz slurs back.

Spot meows. Erin shushes her.

“So, are you ready to fort—forft— _forfeit_ ,” Erin gets out finally.

“Listen. I don’t—” Holtz pauses to burp and slumps back, groaning. “Erin, whose idea was it to drink this much?”

“You. Your idea. Your fault.”

Holtz squints at the board. “I don’t even know what places are mine. Can we take a break?”

“M’not forgetting the…whatever it is that you owe me.”

“I think it was…zero dollars?”

Erin flips her off. “I have to pee again. BRB.”

“B-R-Pee,” Holtz says with a giggle.

“You are five.”

It takes Erin three attempts at locking the bathroom door before she gives up. She pees and washes her hands, then stares at herself in the mirror. She keeps forgetting that she’s only wearing her bra and jeans. After a few seconds, she sits on the floor and leans her head against the wall. She closes her eyes and wills the room to stop moving.

There’s a way-too-loud pounding on the bathroom door. “Erin? I need to—oh, fuck. ErinIgottacomein.”

Erin opens her eyes in alarm. “Holtz?”

 

_8 Hours Later_

 

As Erin starts to remember what happened next, she glances at Holtz in panic.

Holtz is also having the rest of the night come back to her. She stares wide-eyed at Erin and then looks back at Abby and Patty, who are waiting expectantly for the rest of the story.

“After that,” Holtz says quickly, “I burst into the bathroom and puked.”

“Serves you right,” Patty says only semi-grumpily. “I was saving that vodka.”

“Then what?” Abby says.

“Then we decided that we’d had enough, so we crawled back into the main room and passed out,” Holtz says. “And then we were asleep until you found us this morning.”

“Yep,” Erin says. “That’s all. That’s the end of the story.”

Patty squints at them. “What about the fire?”

All four of them turn to look at the cremated Monopoly board at the same time.

“Um,” Erin says.

“Nothing,” Holtz says. “A candle fell over while we were asleep. We woke up in time to stop it from spreading. Then we went back to sleep.”

“You guys are lying,” Abby says. “I know _exactly_ what happened.”

Erin and Holtz exchange another nervous glance.

“You do?” Erin asks weakly.

Abby crosses her arms smugly. “Holtz found out the reason why Erin’s banned from Monopoly. She will do _anything_ to win, and if she’s losing she _always_ finds a way to ruin the game. Sometimes she flips the table, sometimes she ‘accidentally’ spills her drink on the board…but this is a new low. Come on, Erin, lighting the board on fire before you can lose? Do you have any dignity?”

Erin opens and closes her mouth. “Uh…yeah. You caught me. I’m a disgrace. That’s what happened. I…knocked over one of the candles because I was losing.”

Holtz nods like a bobblehead.

Patty looks down at the board and then back at them. “But…I thought Holtz was the one about to go bankrupt?”

“What? No. Nope. I was just waiting to bounce back,” Holtz says. “I had a few tricks up my sleep. I flipped it back in my favour pretty fast and then Erin was losing and then she lit the board on fire. That’s exactly what happened. Just like that.”

Patty appraises them, then shakes her head. “Alright, well, now that that’s all sorted, Patty’s gonna take a personal day and let you fools clean this mess up. Abby?”

“I’ll just work upstairs,” Abby says. “See you tomorrow, Patty.”

Patty waves and leaves.

Seconds after the door shuts behind her, Abby turns to them. “So, you two want to tell me what _really_ happened next?”

“What?” Holtz says. “That is what happened. Erin destroyed the game, like you said.”

Erin hangs her head. “That’s not why I’m banned from Monopoly. She made all that up.” She bites her lip and looks at Abby. “What I don’t get is why you wouldn’t just accuse Holtz of accidentally starting the fire. That’s more in her league than mine.”

Abby shrugs. “This was more fun. You really are a Monopoly monster. Look at how believable that was.”

Holtz raises her hand. “Uh, I’m really confused, here. What’s going on?”

“You tell me,” Abby says with a smirk. “Please tell me what _really_ happened to the board. And don’t lie—I’ll know.”

Erin and Holtz look at each other. Erin gives a tiny nod.

“Okay,” Holtz says. “Here’s what really happened next…”

 

_8 Hours Earlier_

 

The door to the bathroom bursts open and Holtz stumbles in, barely reaching the toilet before she dry-heaves over it.

Erin groans. “No. Don’t do that.”

Spot trots into the bathroom after Holtz and clambers onto Erin’s lap.

“ _No, don’t do that_ ,” Erin says again. She uses her elbow to push the cat off, but she crawls back on and purrs.

_Before He Cheats_ is playing from the main room.

“Jeez, don’t the batteries in your speaker have to die sometime?” Erin says, shutting her eyes again.

Holtz looks up from the toilet for a second. “I made a few adjustments,” she says, then turns back to dry-heave again. She closes her own eyes and tries to settle her stomach. She _really_ doesn’t want to throw up. “What, not a Carrie fan?”

“My ex cheated on me,” Erin blurts.

That sobers Holtz up. She contemplates that as she stands and runs the sick, taking a few gulps of water directly from the tap, and then comes to sit against the wall opposite Erin.

“What a dick,” she says. “I’m glad you broke up with him.”

Erin hangs her head and pats Spot between her ears with the tip of her finger. “I didn’t. He broke up with me.”

“You said—”

“Yeah, I know. You were just saying all this stuff ’bout how amicable and perfect your brack—breakup was…”

“You can say ‘amicable’ right now, but stumble over ‘breakup?’”

Erin blushes. “Shut up.”

Holtz unspools some toilet paper from the roll by her head and balls it up. She throws it at the garbage can and misses. “My breakup wasn’t perfect.” She bites her lip. “I cheated on her.”

“ _What?!_ Holtzmann! That’s— _you’re_ a dick!”

“Nonononono, not like _that_. I just…had feelings for someone else.”

“Oh. That’s not cheating.”

“Might as well been. She thought I had feelings for someone I worked with and I kept denying it but then I realized she was right.”

Erin frowns. “Someone at your old job?”

Holtz gives her a long look. “No?”

“I don’t understand?”

“Oh my God. It’s obviously you.”

“What?”

“You were the one she thought I liked and the one she was right about even though I didn’t think so?”

Erin squints at her and tries to follow that sentence.

“I. Like. You.” Holtz finger-guns her. “But you’re straight so obviously m’not gonna tell you. S’my problem.”

“You just told me?”

Holtz curses quietly. “I did.”

Erin snorts. “Straight. I’m not straight. That’s always been such a funny phrase, right? Like, oh, I’m straight. Not bendy. Not like a—” she circles her finger. “Y’know what I mean. A thingie.”

“I honestly have no clue what you’re saying. Did you just say you’re not straight?”

“I haven’t been straight since…since…actually, I don’t even know.”

Holtz regards her with an incredulous, if confused, expression.

_Girls Just Want to Have Fun_ starts playing.

Holtz stands and extends a hand to Erin. “C’mon, you. Let’s dance.”

Erin smiles slowly and lets Holtz help her up. Holtz moonwalks back into the main room, tugging Erin behind her, then begins to shimmy as she turns the volume up. Erin spins in a circle and immediately regrets it, then transitions into some variation of the Sprinkler.

Without really intending to, they head into a bit of a dance battle. Holtz does some Running Man. Erin does the Lawnmower.

“This really is a great playlist,” Erin shouts over the song.

“I can’t take credit,” Holtz shouts back. “Found it on Spotify.”

“What’s it called?”

Holtz smirks in anticipation.[ “ _Songs That Never Fail to Make White People Beyond Turnt_.”](https://open.spotify.com/user/haey1/playlist/15HiKjAnUuAymWdqejOTcP?si=RXwFSEIyQVuxFEuvYaUBjQ)

Erin considers that, mid Macarena sequence. “Oh.”

They both pause for a second, then burst out laughing.

Erin, not faltering, spins an imaginary lasso and traps Holtz. Holtz plays along and boogies closer until they’re only a foot apart. Erin, breathing heavy, impulsively leans forward and smashes her mouth to Holtz’s.

Holtz staggers back, then steadies herself and grabs Erin’s waist to pull her closer and kiss her back.

“Just gals being pals,” Holtz mumbles against Erin’s lips. “Just girls having fun.”

“Shut _up,_ Holtz. Just kiss me.”

“With fuckin’ pleasure,” Holtz says and goes back in.

They stumble backwards together in search of something solid as _Africa_ begins to play. There’s the sound of something knocking over by their feet. Erin steps on a rogue Monopoly house and doesn’t even care.

After a bit, Erin’s lower half starts to feel warm.

No, not like _that_.

She breaks the kiss to glance down and yelps.

“Holtz! There’s a fire!”

“You feel it too?” Holtz says dreamily.

Erin looks down again. “The Monopoly board is on fire.”

“ _You’re_ on fire.”

“Holtz, you kicked over one of the candles and now our game is _literally_ going up in flames.”

“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from youuuu,” Holtz sings.

“You’d better summon the rains from Africa before this entire firehouse becomes a literal Fire House.”

Holtz looks down. “Hm. I see.” She winks and sashays off to grab the nearest fire extinguisher. Luckily, there’s one every few feet in the firehouse because, well, Holtz works here.

She sprays down the board as _I Want It That Way_ starts to play.

“Oh, _perfect_ ,” Holtz says with glee. She uses the extinguisher wand as a microphone and sings along.

“You are my _fiiiire_. The one desiiiire.”

“Oh, come on,” Erin says. “Really?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love this song.”

“Well, I _am_ a white person.”

Holtz winks. She sets down the fire extinguisher. “So, that’s taken care of. Nothin’ like a good fire to heat things up.”

Erin looks down at the toasted board sadly. “Our game…I was so close…”

Holtz shrugs. “Let’s just call it a draw.”

“You were about to lose!”

“Nah, we were about even.”

“No we weren’t!”

Holtz steps closer and presses a finger to Erin’s lips. “Shh, shh.”

Erin steps back from her. “Don’t shush me. You _know_ I would’ve won that game. Say it.”

“No!”

“Say it, Holtzmann.”

“I’m not saying it.”

Erin stares at her for a few seconds, then huffs loudly, turns, and walks away.

“Where are you going?” Holtz calls after her.

“Home.”

“You can’t go home. It’s the middle of the night, there’s a storm outside, and you’re drunk.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Jesus. You really are a sore loser, Erin.”

“I didn’t lose! I won!”

“No you didn’t,” Holtz says. She backs up and stoops to snatch up Spot, who’s trying to investigate the extinguisher foam on the floor. “I’m going to go sleep this off. You should too.”

She walks away with the cat tucked under her arm and crawls under the work bench by the containment unit. She pulls her phone from her pocket and turns off the music, then sets it on the ground beside her and shuts her eyes. Within seconds, her snores fill the firehouse.

Erin knows realistically that Holtz is right and she shouldn’t try to go home. Grumbling, she drags one of the couch cushions further away from the charred game and takes a seat on it. She’s not going to sleep—she’s just going to wait until she sobers up or the storm stops, whichever comes first.

 

_8 Hours Later_

 

“I guess I passed out anyway,” Erin mumbles.

Holtz clears her throat. “So, uh…that’s the rest of the story. You happy?”

Abby blinks. “That’s…so much better than I expected. I shouldn’t have let Patty leave. Wow.” She looks back and forth between them. “You know, I could take the day off, too. You guys seem like you have…a lot to talk about.”

“Abby, please don’t leave,” Erin says, but Abby is already grabbing her coat and hopping off Kevin’s desk.

“This firehouse better be spotless tomorrow!” Abby calls over her shoulder. “Ha, _Spot_ -less.”

“Don’t worry, Spot,” Holtz says, “you’re not going anywhere.”

“See you guys,” Abby says, and then she’s gone.

They’re quiet for a few moments.

“I’ll go get the cleaning supplies,” Erin says.

Holtz grabs her by the arm. “Erin, wait.”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it.” Erin laughs nervously. “We were both hammered. We can forget it ever happened.”

“I don’t want to forget it happened,” Holtz says. She shuffles nervously in place. Her hair is less ‘purposeful mess’ and more ‘slept-on disaster.’ She’s got some sort of liquor stain on her shirt.

At least she’s wearing a shirt. Erin fetches hers from the floor and hastily puts it back on. She sighs. Her head hurts so much. “Holtz…”

“No, Erin, I really like you. I’ve thought about…you know, kissing you…for so long, and I never wanted it to be like _that_. Drunk and chaotic and…well, okay, I’ll admit that I never really discounted a spontaneous accidental fire, because it’s _me_ , but—”

“Holtz.”

“—it’s so like me to screw good things up—like I had to go and ruin everything by being a stubborn jackass—I mean, of _course_ you were about to win—”

“ _HOLTZ._ ”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to kiss you now, because I’m pretty sure one whiff of your breath and I’ll throw up, but the sentiment is there. Okay?”

“Okay?”

“I like you too.”

“Really?”

Erin laughs nervously. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Interesting. That’s…unexpected. These last 24 hours have been…very illuminating.” Holtz smiles. “So, what does that mean?”

“It means…” Erin looks around the room at the disaster they’ve created. “It means we’re going to clean this all up, and then…we’re going to go out for breakfast.”

Holtz’s smile widens. “Really?”

Erin can’t help but smile shyly in return, teeth over her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

Holtz cracks her knuckles. “Alright, then. Let’s get to it.” She whistles at Spot. “C’mere, girl. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

The cat comes running. Erin watches her. “I bet we can convince the others to let her stay.”

“Oh, I already have a ten-step plan,” Holtz says. “By the end of it, they’ll be begging _me_ to let her stay.”

They gather up their stock of cleaning supplies and get to work. The whole Monopoly game gets shoved into a garbage bag with the empty liquor bottles. They’ll buy Kevin a replacement game (and replace everyone’s alcohol).

“So, you never did say,” Holtz says as she sweeps up paperclips and ashes with Spot perched on her shoulder. “Why _did_ Abby ban you from Monopoly?”

Erin laughs from where she’s putting the cushions back on the couch. “Oh, not a chance. You’ll have to wait until we’re _well_ into our relationship to get the answer to that question.”

Holtz just smiles to herself. “You hear that?” she says to Spot, who’s purring happily in her ear. “We’re going to have a legit _relationship_ for Monopoly to ruin.”

“That makes it sound like we’re going to have a re-match one day,” Erin says.

“Oh, honey, you’d better believe it,” Holtz says. “And this time, I’m not going to let you win. That’s right—no more Sam’s Strip Club. You haven’t even seen the half of me. I’m not going to let my gayness get in the way of kicking your ass.”

Erin raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “We’ll see about that.”

Listen, she was banned for a reason.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come shout at me on Tumblr](http://jillbert.tumblr.com). Thank you to my boo-tiful girlfriend for helping me with this mess and thank you to the originator of that playlist for providing the perfect soundtrack for these white dorks' shenanigans.


End file.
